


Little White Lies

by emynii, ObliObla



Series: Nia & Obli's Whumptober 2019 [16]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demons, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Hurt Chloe Decker, Hurt Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Lucifer Bingo 2019 (Lucifer TV), Post-Season/Series 04, Torture, Whump, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 14:07:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21078038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynii/pseuds/emynii, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: When demons come looking for information from the king of Hell, they'll stop at nothing to get it. With Chloe at risk, Lucifer has to make hard choices to ensure her safety.For the Whumptober prompt: pinned downFor the Bingo Prompt: Needs Must When the Devil Drives





	Little White Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings are in the end notes.

“What have you _ done, _ demons?”

Lucifer’s voice wakes Chloe from her confused delirium. She feels something rough and fibrous tight against her wrists an instant before the pain of the ropes cutting into her skin hits her; all her weight is on them, though she can feel the ground beneath her feet. Pins and needles break out along her arms from their position raised above her head. Her chin is drawn tight against her chest, and she doesn’t quite have the energy to raise it. So, too, are her eyelids so heavy she isn’t certain she can open them.

Someone laughs, somewhere in front of her. “What Dromos was too foolish to manage,” a man crows. “A Devil in a trap!”

Chloe hears a metallic rattling, a body thrashing, a growl.

“Adamantine chains,” a second demon says, voice oddly sibilant. “Entirely unbreakable.”

“D’you wanna bet?” Lucifer asks harshly, almost slurring his words, and Chloe’s panic ratchets up another step. Lucifer is caught; Lucifer is either hurt or drugged. Or both.

She pries her eyes open as a third demon, this one female, giggles maniacally. _ “And _wards courtesy of Earth’s most powerful sorcerer!”

Chloe blinks the bleariness from her eyes and barely manages to hold in her gasp. Lucifer is pinned to a platform raised off the ground. Chains, shining oddly in the artificial lighting of what appears to be a warehouse, wrap around his body. His chest, his arms, his legs, his neck are bound to the floor. The ends of the chains are fixed to deadly-looking spikes that rise out of the corners of the platform. Strange sigils are carved into the stone underneath him, sparking when he yanks at his restraints again, trying to pull himself free.

He chokes out a laugh. “What, Constantine? Shoulda dealt with that irksome upstart when I had the chance.”

Lucifer can see her, Chloe realizes, suddenly, when the men scowl and the woman laughs again. The knowledge shoots through her like lightning; but she knows, with just as much certainty, that he’s avoiding her gaze entirely, trying desperately to pretend that she doesn’t matter.

Blood is dripping from his ear, is matted in his hair. Bruises bloom across his face and arms and bare chest. He’s still wearing his trousers, but his feet are bare, shiny in places from the sigils’ burns. She remembers, disjointedly, shouting, fighting, being hit from behind. Besides the head wound, throbbing gently, making bile coat the inside of her teeth, they haven’t hurt _ her. _ Yet.

“What is the _ point _ of this?” Lucifer asks. He tries to relax back to the concrete, but the lines of the wards blaze, and he hisses under his breath, pulling himself back up.

The largest of the demons abruptly grabs the chain over Lucifer’s neck and jerks it, drawing it taut, leaning down. “The king is dead,” he hisses.

Lucifer makes a truly terrible noise, a whine torn from his throat as he scrambles at the links, and, when the demon drops the chain, he coughs, blood flecking his lips. “Kill me, then,” he whispers, and his eyes are flames.

They stare at each other for a long moment before the demon pulls away, cursing under his breath.

Lucifer laughs, spitting blood. “Never had any follow through, did you, Arkos? And you”—he tilts his head back to look at the shorter demon—”Keza, is it? Still an insufferable coward, then?”

Keza snarls, striking out at Lucifer’s head. But it’s a feint, and Lucifer only grins. “You obviously aren’t going to kill me, so either do something interesting or _ let me go.” _

The female demon huffs and opens her mouth, but Lucifer cuts her off. “Oh, Hetra’s here, too. I’d recognize that annoying laugh anywhere.”

“You—”

“I—”

“We—”

_ “Look,” _ he interrupts with a grimace as lightning arcs across his skin again. “Tell me what you desire, and maybe we can make a deal.”

“You’re in no position to bargain,” Arkos says.

“I’m _ always _in a position to bargain,” Lucifer says easily, and, though he is chained to the floor, though he cannot let his muscles go slack without obvious pain, he seems almost comfortable.

Arkos scowls and turns to the other demons. “Bring the cart.”

“Oh, you have a _ cart? _ How quaint.”

Arkos glares down at him. “You _ will _ tell us.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. “Honestly, you couldn’t just ask first?”

Arkos doesn’t respond. The wheels squeak as Keza and Hetra push it alongside the platform.

“Now,” Arkos says, almost theatrically, like he’s been preparing a speech. “What is—?”

“Love?” Lucifer asks, with his best shit-eating grin. The chains creak as he gestures dramatically. “Baby, don’t hurt me.”

“What are you...?”

“Don’t hurt me,” Lucifer continues, ignoring him entirely. 

“You will _ cease—” _

“No more,” Lucifer whispers, then settles again, smirking.

“The pit,” Arkos says, and all the blood drains from Lucifer’s face.

Chloe tugs at her restraints, but they hold firm. She tries to get a better grip and only ends up falling, her shoulders pulled up at a terrible angle. Her vision whites out for a moment, and when she blinks herself back to awareness, Lucifer meets her gaze.

And there is true terror there.

_ Shit. _

He breathes roughly. “What...what about the pit?”

“I know there’s an incantation,” Arkos says, back on his script, it seems. “A password, a _ key. _ Tell us… and we won’t hurt you.”

And, suddenly, every bit of Lucifer’s fear vanishes, replaced with a carefree smirk. _ “You _ are going to torture _ me?” _ He chuckles. “Arkos of the Lilim, a third-rate torturer, at _ best _—whinging, worthless, unwanted. I was bringing torment before you were even spawned.”

Arkos surveys Lucifer, head tilting, then holds out his hand. “Get me my whip.”

* * *

After Arkos’ whipping, which left welts crisscrossing Lucifer’s chest and reduced his pants to tatters, the demons move on to what Lucifer, panting but refusing to cry out, deems ‘the usual schedule’. Beatings, first, with a baseball bat, with fists; then shallow cuts from Keza’s knife, all over his body. Then salt and acid rubbed into the wounds.

Then fire—and Chloe isn’t sure which is worse, the sight or the smell. And though nausea rises, and she has to grit her teeth against the ache in her arms and shoulders and head, she refuses to look away.

And all the while, Lucifer jokes and mocks and criticizes.

“Really? And on the first date, Arkos?”

“Ooh, _ harder. _ I can barely feel it.”

“Death by a thousand cuts? How _ original.” _

“You know, I’m more of a cool ranch man, myself. But I suppose salt and vinegar will have to do.”

And it is when Hetra drops the brand, still faintly glowing, and there is silence for a moment, that Chloe understands. Arkos glances around, frustrated, his gaze almost landing on her before—

“Barbecued Devil?” Lucifer chokes past burnt lips. “Don’t you know that’s my speciality?”

And Arkos looks back at him, growling, reaching for the cart again.

_ For her. _ He is doing all of this for her.

With no one else watching him, for a moment, he sags, letting sparks crawl over his body. Agony passes over his face like the shadow of death.

And then Arkos pulls out a thumbscrew.

"Ooh, a thumbikins, then?” Lucifer says, chuckling, mask firmly back in place. “Gone _ medieval _have we? What other goodies have you got in that cart of yours? Not enough room here for the rack, but maybe a Judas cradle? Nice chap”—he glances heavenward—”shame about all that nasty business with the silver.”

Arkos moves towards Lucifer’s feet. “Grab his legs,” he commands. 

“But what about _ my—?” _

“Just grab his legs, Hetra.” Arkos scowls.

She pouts, but accedes, and joins Keza in seizing Lucifer’s ankles and pressing his feet together.

“Cease this, _ demons,” _ Lucifer hisses, but they ignore him.

Arkos fastens the cast iron around Lucifer’s big toes even as he tries to kick out, tightening the screw until the vice is snug.

“What is the key?” Arkos asks.

Lucifer shakes his head.

Arkos turns the screw. “The key.”

“No.”

Another turn. Lucifer bites his lip and doesn’t speak. Another, and something cracks. Lucifer winces.

“The _ key.” _

_ “No.” _ He’s breathing hard, now, but his gaze is steady, fixed on Arkos.

Arkos grins, tightening the screw again. “Did your Father bind you like this, when He threw you out like trash?”

Lucifer growls. “Arkos—”

But Arkos turns the screw yet further, and Lucifer’s words are lost to a _ crunch _and a shout of pain.

Lucifer inhales shakily, the unbruised parts of his face sallow and pale.

“All of us, _ garbage,” _ Arkos continues, warming to his theme. “And all Dromos wanted, all _ we _ want… is to be treated with respect.” He turns the screw again, and Lucifer’s jaw clenches.

“So, you’re going to open the pit,” Lucifer says roughly.

Arkos nods, and there’s a zealous gleam in his eyes, now. “Those beasts will destroy the gates, break the boundary between dimensions, and, together, _ we _will bring Hell to Earth.”

“You’ll destroy it. You’ll destroy _ everything,” _ Lucifer whispers, voice weakened by pain.

But Arkos only laughs. He grabs the screws’ flanges, twisting violently, and Lucifer yelps.

His eyes burn red, and scars that have nothing to do with the torture crawl over his skin for a moment, before he huffs out a breath, and pushes his other face down. Chloe isn’t afraid of it, not anymore, but, still, it’s unsettling, and she loses her footing, pulling herself back up by the restraints. She knows what can happen when his control slips.

“I will _ never _yield,” he snarls.

Arkos and Keza look at each other for a moment, seemingly at a loss, before Hetra whines, “Can we do _ my _thing, now?”

Arkos sighs. “Fine. Get it, then.”

She grins and crouches, pulling what looks like electrical equipment off of the bottom shelf of the cart, trailing wires over the concrete as she sets it up near Lucifer’s head. She picks up the leads and grants him an evil grin.

“Be still my beating heart,” Lucifer breathes.

* * *

“Go up to seventy-five,” Arkos orders. The shocks have been steadily increasing in intensity, but Lucifer continues to refuse to talk, only chastising the demons whenever the current stops, and he can breathe again. Hetra nods, but, before she can turn up the knob on the generator, Chloe yells.

“That’s too much! You’ll kill him!”

Keza hesitates. “Maybe we should—”

But Hetra twists the knob, presses the button, and Lucifer seizes, every muscle pulled so taut as to be trembling. He curls in on himself, pulling at the chains. The spikes make a horrible metallic whine before they begin, slowly, to peal away from the concrete.

“Stop!” Arkos cries.

Hetra turns off the machine. “What are—?”

But Lucifer is moving, no longer involuntarily drawing in but purposefully yanking at the chains, loosening the bolsters.

“Fuck!” Arkos shouts.

Lucifer wrenches one from the ground, and frees an arm. The demons leap back, but Keza isn’t quick enough, as Lucifer, lightning-fast, darts his hand out, fastening it around his ankle. He yanks, and the demon falls to the ground. Keza scrambles at the ground, shouting for his siblings, but he can’t get away, not when Lucifer is pulling him, inexorably, closer. 

“No, no, _ no!” _ Keza yells, but Lucifer only snarls, beyond words.

His fingers climb Keza’s leg even as the demon kicks out, raining down blows on every part of Lucifer he can reach. But none of it seems to matter. When he turns, reaching for Lucifer’s face, Lucifer snatches his hand out of the air. There is a horrible, meaty _ crack _ as his fingers tighten like a vice.

And then Hetra is there, holding what might be a hammer, though it’s hard to tell anything but that it makes a horribly flat noise when she hits Lucifer over the head with it.

Lucifer _ howls, _ letting go of Keza’s now bleeding hand, reaching for the wound on his skull by instinct. But before he can compose another attack, Arkos is on him, obscuring Chloe’s sight, putting his entire weight on Lucifer’s arm.

Metal flashes in Hetra’s hand for a moment before Chloe hears a bang. A shout. Another bang. Another, harsher shout. The sigils beneath Lucifer’s body are incandescent with the pressure against them, sparking loud enough even to be heard over the yelling.

And then all of it is drowned out by a high, mindless shriek that goes on for longer than Chloe can believe, interspersed with further hammering. And she is shouting, too, even as pain flares in her arms, her shoulders, and she stumbles against the ground again.

There is silence for a moment, broken only by Lucifer’s rough breathing, and Chloe’s vision is obscured by tears. But he is alive. He is _ alive. _

“He broke my _ fucking _ hand!” Keza whines, and there is a thump.

“Stop complaining, you _ useless _demon,” Arkos says, and then someone chuckles.

Chloe blinks her eyes clear, and is met with the sight of several long nails, badly bent, pierced through Lucifer’s wrist, embedded in the concrete, pinning his arm down, and the confusion of all three demons as Lucifer’s soft laughter grows louder and louder.

"Is this what you call crucifixion?” he asks, pain banished from his voice. “Where’s the ritual? The _ pomp? _ The Romans would be disappointed in you. Truly."

The demons can’t seem to do anything but stare, and Chloe tries to regain her feet. Her wrists are on _ fire, _ but she’s too afraid to cry out.

“So,” Lucifer says brightly, fingers twitching like he’s already testing his range of motion. “What’s next?”

* * *

Lucifer’s voice has gone hoarse from screaming, but he chuckles almost gleefully as he goads the demons yet again, as he’s been doing for the past Chloe doesn’t know how long. She can only mark the time by how her fingers are going increasingly numb, by how thirsty she’s getting, even as the thought of water makes her nauseous all over again.

“You know that every wound you deal unto me I will repay a thousandfold,” Lucifer says conversationally, spitting blood onto the concrete. “And then I will show you true torment.”

The demons look at each other, seemingly at a loss. Chloe has resorted to chanting in her head, _ Maze will come. Maze will come. Maze will come. _ But it’s been _ hours, _ and no one’s found them yet. It’s getting harder to have hope. She can’t feel her arms much besides the continuing pain; she’s fairly certain that’s not a good sign.

“Fine,” Arkos says, and suddenly he’s stalking over to Chloe, grabbing the rope binding her hands and yanking it up so she has to scramble against the ground, fire blazing along her nerves again. “If you won’t talk... we’ll hurt your little human.”

_ “Stop.” _ And there is hellish authority in Lucifer’s voice, all humor gone in an instant.

Arkos smirks. “Oh, you _ do _ care about her. And I thought Hetra, here, was lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie,” she hisses. “He was as pitiful as an ash-struck whelp in that nightclub.”

“I...I don’t give a _ damn _about this human,” Lucifer says through gritted teeth.

The words are knives to Chloe’s heart. Lucifer doesn’t lie. She clenches her jaw and pushes down the pain, instead trying to kick out at Arkos. But she has no leverage, and he easily dodges out of the way.

Keza pulls out his knife and crouches beside the platform, slicing a line of red down Lucifer’s chest, interspersing burns and bruises and other, older cuts. “Then why does she make you bleed?”

Lucifer glares up at him. “My Father created her to punish me with mortality. Just like that bastard Cain.”

Chloe’s breathing is too fast, but she can’t seem to calm herself. She tries to kick out again, but she’s running out of energy, and her vision grays at the edges. She wonders if oblivion would hurt less than the conflicting emotions trying to claw their way through her chest.

Keza frowns. "Nah, I tortured that human. You don't have a mark like him."

Lucifer shrugs, as much as he can, chained to the floor, and his casual attitude makes Chloe ache all the more. "Dad works in mysterious ways.”

“But—?”

“Look, do I have to spell out _ everything _for you halfwits?"

Arkos scowls. “Why would you stay with her?”

And Lucifer makes deliberate eye contact with Chloe, now, lips curling into a cruel smirk. “Oh, she has her uses.”

The demons blink as one, and seem to fall into a panic together.

Hanging from her bindings, trying and failing to stand upright, Chloe panics too. Lucifer _ doesn’t _ lie. Not _ ever. _

_ Why do you think they call him the Prince of Lies? _

_ No. No, Lucifer always tells the truth. Always. He does not lie. _

_ What if this is the biggest lie of all? _

She swallows dryly. She doesn’t want to believe Kinley was right. Ever since Lucifer came back from Hell, they’ve been together. They’ve been _ happy. _ Truly, _ finally. _ But either he was lying before or he is lying now. There are a thousand things she wants to say, but when she manages to force her mouth open, all she can ask is, “Why?”

Lucifer chuckles darkly and turns away, looking back at the demons.

“You can’t expect us to believe this was all some kind of _ plan.” _ Keza says, kicking his feet against the ground in agitation.

“And why not?” Lucifer asks with vicious glee.

You...you wouldn’t have spent so much time—”

Lucifer barks out a laugh. “What, half a decade? I’ve had longer naps.”

Keza blinks, running his hand agitatedly through his hair. Hetra sputters, “But-but…”

“Ugh, I remember why I left Hell,” Lucifer grumbles.

But Arkos is frowning. “If that’s true—“

“Always the truth, Arkos,” Lucifer says. “All the better to hang yourself with.”

Arkos grins cruelly. “You won’t mind if we kill her, then.”

For a moment, when Arkos is too busy exhaling his foul breath into Chloe’s ear to notice anything else, when Keza and Hetra are watching them both, hungry expressions painting their faces, a fear deeper than any Chloe has ever seen passes over Lucifer. His jaw clenches as he swallows roughly, choking back bile, staring up at the sky as if in silent prayer, a single tear dripping down his cheek. And she knows, now, she never should have doubted him.

He _ doesn’t _ lie, but he _ has. _ For her. And then he steels himself and brings his anger to bear.

“Well, it would be bloody annoying!” he says, voice suddenly loud and harsh, no trace of terror left in him. _ “Years _ of careful maneuvering wasted in service of a failed rebellion.”

“We will _ not _fail,” Arkos hisses, abandoning Chloe again to grab Lucifer by the shoulder and haul him up as he can manage, the chains pulled taut, their noses inches apart.

Lucifer licks his lips mockingly. ”You have already failed.”

Arkos roars, slamming Lucifer’s head back into the ground, but he only laughs. Then his laughter dies, and he sobers.

And it is not the Devil that has come, but an angel, great and awe-inspiring and terrible—and Chloe begins to understand why Gabriel told Mary, _ Be not afraid. _

“I am older than time, you sniveling spawn of a slave who thinks herself a queen. I have survived eons untold in darkness, _ I _ am the one who bound those beasts you wish to loose, and you believe you ever had a chance?”

Arkos backs away. Keza and Hetra stand together, eyes wide. Something tightens in Chloe’s chest, and she can’t manage to draw air in; as strong as her fear of Lucifer was, for a single, shameful moment, stronger still is her fear _ for _ him.

But he’s still talking, _ proclaiming, _ as if he is the one with all the power. And maybe he is, even now. “I will never grant you what you desire. Kill the human and I will be invulnerable again; kill _ me _ and I will pull myself out of the darkness just to rip you apart—either way, _ you cannot win.” _

“Uh... boss?” Keza asks, voice weak. “Maybe we should—“ But there is a knife, suddenly, plunged to the hilt in his forehead. A familiar knife.

_ Maze. _

Hetra dives for cover immediately, but Maze leaps from the darkness, tackling her to the ground, burying her second knife in the demon’s heart. She looks up at Arkos and smiles.

And he runs.

But not away, toward the doors Chloe can barely see in her rapidly graying peripheral vision. No, he runs directly to Chloe, pulling out a knife and pressing it to her throat, using her as a shield from Maze’s blades.

Maze stands, preparing to stalk forward, but Arkos slices a narrow cut against Chloe’s throat. The pain wakes her up just enough to focus on her hands, on grabbing the rope she’s hanging from.

“Don’t come closer,” he says, voice panicked in Chloe’s ear, “or I-I’ll...”

“Arkos,” Lucifer says, still strangely calm, “there is no escape.”

Arkos laughs madly, hands shaking. “But it will ruin your plans. And-and our rebellion! We can regroup. We can—”

And Chloe strikes, fingers tightening painfully around the rope, giving her just enough leverage to bring her heel up, hard, against Arkos’ leg.

It doesn’t hurt him—she knows demons possessing corpses can’t feel pain—but it distracts him long enough for Maze to rush over and jam her knife in his throat, pulling him off Chloe. Chloe loses her grip and swings from the rope, agony clawing into her muscles.

Her vision turns gray, her hearing fuzzes out, and she is falling.

And she is falling.

And it is so far down, in the dark.

* * *

“Chloe, Chloe...” 

Hands slick with blood touch her wrists, loosening the restraints. Suddenly freed, the pain redoubles, spiking through her nerves, and she cries out.

“Shh, It’s okay, darling. It’s over.” There are arms supporting her, holding her upright.

“Lucif...” Her head is pounding.

“Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ve got you.”

She takes a breath and coughs. She isn’t certain why this matters, now, but she knows it does. “You... lied,” she whispers.

“Yes.”

“For me.”

_ “Yes.” _

“But—“

“And I’d do it again.”

_ Don’t you know that, Detective? _ echoes in her mind.

He picks her up. She loses time. Everything is choppy and strange. She thinks Lucifer and Maze are speaking. Thinks she hears _ Hell _ and _ punishment _ and _ later, _ but there are hands cupping her face, brushing sweaty hair from her forehead, and it’s so much easier not to think.

And Lucifer must be in agony—some part of her wishes she could force words from her dulling tongue, could tell him _ go _ and _ leave me _ for she knows that he is only hurt because of her. But he cares for _ her, _ first. She begins to wonder if, in his own way, he always has.

* * *

When she comes to again, it’s to a low rumbling beneath her body, to a hand still gently stroking her face. They are in the back of Maze’s car, and Lucifer has fit his knees between the seats, kneeling awkwardly, watching her, worry on his face.

“Hello, love,” he whispers.

He looks terrible; what skin she can see is horribly bruised, mottled purple and yellow and green. The only concession he seems to have made to his own health is a strip of fabric that might be a pocket square tied around his mangled wrist

Her arms still feel like they’re on fire, her shoulder muscles throbbing, but she raises a hand, presses her shaking fingertips to the worst of the bruises on his face—they’re nearly black with blood, painted across his cheek.

“I’m—“ Her breath hitches, and her hand falls back to her chest, but she needs him to understand. “I’m sorry.”

He blinks at her, wincing slightly, and understanding passes over his face. ”Never apologize for that,” he breathes.

“But I...”

“I would endure any torment for your sake,” he tells her, and she sees the angel again, great and terrible, sees the Devil, vicious and howling. Sees a being older than time, bleeding immortal ichor to save mortal blood. 

_ Mortal. _

The word bounces around her head, searching for something to connect to. And then she finds it.

“You-you said your Dad…”

“Shh, darling. Rest.”

“No, no…” She shakes her head, and the pain brings her back to the present, at least enough to speak. “You said He _ made _ me. Like-like some kind of… miracle.”

_ Miracle. _ What her mom used to call her.

“Chloe…” 

“It was a lie to...to distract them long enough for Maze to come, r-right?”

For a moment he only stares at her blankly, and the pit of fear rises again, but then he smiles, wide and genuine, tenderly pressing his forehead against hers. “Of course, Detective,” he says, softly, against her lips.

And it _ must _ be true, right? He may have lied to the demons—under duress, of course—but he'd never lie to _ her. _

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warnings: Non-sexual whipping, branding, blood, electrocution


End file.
